Besides being king, Frontarius was also proficient in theoretical magic, his skill being in determining the ebb and flow of magical currents, knowing where the potential for power was greatest.

He travelled the sea for many years, seeking where the highest peak of magical power in the world might be.

After much travelling he found an ice field where the peaks seemed highest—we know where it is, it is called the steps of Frontarius—and from each peak he found a higher and still a higher after that, till he finally found his summit.

After finding I could walk again easily, I committed that page of the book to memory. If the unknown alchemist had made any other impossible discoveries, we could figure them out later, when I had translator access—for now, the allcure would be enough.

“I suppose there’s an easy way out from here?” I asked Munk. “Possibly some kind of giant-sized exit?”

Munk started walking along the shelf. I followed.

By one wall there was, in fact, a spiral staircase leading down—had the giant had normal-sized assistants?—leading down to another door like the one I’d come through, and then the golem was leading me through those infernal endless passages again.

This time, of course, there was no pain and no fatigue; I felt I could walk a good long time. So it probably seemed a good deal less time than it should have before Munk led me out of the halls of illuminated stone and into a dark room in what turned out to be a basement of the university library.

And then there was Internet.

I forwarded the formula to the professor first, of course.

And then I posted it on the alchemy metanetwork. I didn’t bother explaining—not yet—I needed to get this out as fast as possible.

People were dying, after all, and they didn’t have to be.

There were already confirmations being posted before I left the library.

“I think it’s gonna be a good day, Munk,” I said.

The triage started almost immediately—as fast as the doctors could be convinced. The alchemical principles, of course, were rock-solid, but without an understanding of them the panacea might as well be snake oil to them at best, or possibly harmful or fatal at worst.

But it happened, and we changed the world.

All worlds.

Since that day, though, I never saw another kelvin, not even in those undertunnels when we went back for the rest of the giant alchemist’s discoveries.

Blake landed on the library roof, folding his wings and crouching down so I could slide off him more easily.

The big red gryphon rolled over on his back, and after various stretches of various limbs he had changed himself back into a big red kangaroo.

I sat next to him, resting a paw on his belly, and looked down into his eyes.

He looked back, and then through me, up at the stars behind the dome. I rolled over on my back next to him, looking up likewise.

“I’m sure we don’t belong up here,” I said.

“Just because you’re not supposed to do something doesn’t mean you don’t do it,” Blake said. “It means you think about whether doing it is worth the consequences.”

I laughed. “You’re trying to corrupt me.”

“Not at all,” Blake said. “Just reminding you that you have the power of choice. Even if the consequences are dire, you can choose to risk them—a ‘Keep Out’ sign is not an impenetrable force field. So what are the consequences of being caught up here that are so dire anyway? What’s the scenario you imagine?”

“Well, for trespassing we might go to court…” I said. “Might be a fine, or even jailtime. A blemish on my public record.”

“That’s a worst case,” Blake said. “Isn’t it more likely that, say, someone might find us and say, ‘Hey kids, you don’t belong out here, come back inside,’ and we do? Or that we don’t get found at all?”

“You are trying to corrupt me,” I said.

“Only a little.” He turned to face me, resting one heavy arm on my chest.

And he moved his arm lower, his paw passing my stomach. “Maybe about… this much?”

He squeezed playfully.

“In a public place?” I said.

“Ah, but it isn’t public,” Blake said. “There’s a Keep Out sign. This place is private for the many who allow a piece of cardboard to be stronger than their willpower, when it should take a good deal more.”

I went on a good long ways, still hearing Toby’s thoughts, till I reached the highway and figured I ought to turn back. I haven’t found a limit to my range once I have a connection to someone. The hard part is that I have no sense of distance or direction with it, really: if someone isn’t right by me it’s hard to make that first connection, as I discovered watching cars go by on the overpass, trying to listen. I couldn’t see the drivers and when I tried to connect with them, all I heard was static.

I got as close to the violated circle as I dared. Could anyone make it out after all? There was still a lot of magic there they hadn’t fed on yet, but it would take a lot to shake off one nightmare, let alone a swarm of them. The late arrivals stood around the place of power, watching on in horror. Were they losing family, friends, as the light diminished?

A wave of helplessness came over me—I might have been too close to the circle indeed—but I remembered, then, that I wasn’t too late—I still had my extra time.

I ran.

The nearest circle was a good way off to the north of town, far enough that most people from around here didn’t go—mostly folk from the countryside. It’d be most of an hour’s walk—but with my extra time, running fast as I could, I hoped to make it in ten minutes.

Hopefully there’d be at least someone who could hold on that long.

Now, our kind may be good runners, but I wasn’t in the best of shape, my trade not being a physically demanding one. So while I managed to charge through the forest without flagging, when I reached the fields beyond I was already starting to overheat, and I was really starting to hurt by the time I jumped the hedge on the border of the northern woods.

I made it over, but lost my footing, falling flat in the mud. I guess the rain had come to this end of town.

It felt good—the impact of falling over was nothing next to my aching muscles, but while it would have been nice to just rest there, the nightmares were devouring good maccans.

I pushed myself up against my body’s protests, and started running again, panting hard.

The light of the northern circle was already in view.

I ran into the place of power, yelling, “Sahamma, sahamma, sahai!” I collapsed again as I crossed the threshold. “Nightmares at the town circle.” I couldn’t say any more.

I held on to the kelvin tightly, even though its heat burned my paw. I had the allcure, after all, and the poor gryphon, now in tears, seemed to need help.

I wouldn’t let him go. “Here,” I said, offering him the panacea with my free paw. “You’ll be all right.”

The gryphon looked up at me, still lost, still miserable. Of course.

“The translation doesn’t work down here, does it…? You don’t understand me at all.”

Kelvins didn’t talk, but surely they listened… what did they understand? “Weĉjo ijen?” No reaction. “Samskrtam?” No reaction.

My paw was surely blistering from the kelvin’s heat, but on the bright side it didn’t have much feeling left.

“Munk,” I said, addressing the golem, “Is there anything nearby I can use to communicate with him?”

Munk came near and put on big clay hand on my head and another on the kelvin’s.

And there was a thought in my head—it wasn’t spoken, just the memory of words I understood, though not in any language I knew: “He must not be allowed to reach out his hand and take also from the tree of life and eat, and live forever.”

You’ve seen the city of jasper, I thought.

The kelvin did not appear to have heard the thought.

“But this was promised to us,” I said, and this time the kelvin noticed. “Weren’t we told… ‘Never again will there be an infant who lives but a few days, or an old man who does not live out his years—he who dies at a hundred will be thought a mere youth—he who fails to reach a hundred will be considered accursed?’”

It pays to keep a local copy of some things.

“It’s not the promise of the city, where there’ll be no death, but it is a promise that we can fight it a good long time, barring the sudden accident…”

I was rambling. I was fairly sure the kelvin’s heat was travelling up my arm; I was getting sweaty.

“Please, let me help you.” I offered the panacea again.

The kelvin disappeared.

All right.

I took the bowl—awkwardly, as my burned paw wouldn’t cooperate with holding it—and drank the liquid light till I felt the pain fully dissolve.